Spilt Coffee
by 8BonnieBlue8
Summary: Something is up with Santana and Brittany is determined to find out what. This is a sequal to Security blanket so you might want to read that first. Pairing: Brittana. Warning: Contains swearing and loads of Brittany pouting.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Alright, well this is a sequel to Security Blanket. It was supposed to be only a oneshot but it's turned out to be a lot longer; maybe about five or six chapters worth (I haven't finished it yet, so I don't know). This is set sometime between the episodes Theatricality and Funk; it's also slightly AU, I think. **_

_**Warning: Contains swearing and lots of Brittany pouting**_

"_Black as the devil, Hot as hell,_

_Pure as an angel, Sweet as love."_

_~Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord (about coffee)_

Santana's kind of like coffee, Brittany decides as she watches the Latina finish off both her and the blonde's chemistry homework. The taller girl gazes into her Styrofoam cup of brown liquid; Santana's the same colour as coffee and, like the first time you take a big gulp of it, she can be kind of bitter tasting as well. But she's also addictive and always keeps people coming back for more, something Brittany is quite sure Puck would agree with. Also, like coffee, Santana's the only thing that has ever had any success at getting her out of bed in the morning and making sure that she doesn't go back until night-time.

That's why, above everything else, coffee is her favourite drink. Even though the blonde likes her slushies and is probably the only one on the Cheerios who actually prefers to drink theirs over throwing it at someone, not to mention that lemonade makes her giddy and hot chocolate puts a sleepy little smile on her face, coffee is still her favourite drink; mostly because Santana is her favourite person.

Today, Santana's the bitter kind of coffee as she glowers at the books spread out in front of her on the library table and ignores most of Brittany's attempts to start up conversation. She's like this sometimes; for no particular reason that the blonde can see, Santana's grumpy on some days.

Maybe her friend just doesn't like homework; after all, _she_ doesn't like it very much. To test this theory Brittany decides to offer her assistance. "Do you want me to help?"

Santana just looks at her with an expression that's not quite a glare but certainly something that's well on the way to it. The Latina never gets angry with her, at least Brittany's never noticed her being angry at her before, so the blonde doesn't take offence – it's just another side effect of Santana's not-so-happy mood. She also admits to herself that she might not have been much help anyway – the blonde finds chemistry, like most things, confusing, even more so than recipes and those really take her for a loop.

Brittany pouts. "Do you want some of my coffee?" There's not much left but she thinks Santana might be able to get a sip or two out of it.

The brunette rolls her eyes and returns her gaze to the books piled up on the table in front of her. "I'm cool, B."

The word confuses Brittany because she knows very well that Santana is cool – most of the Cheerios are – but she doesn't really see what it could have to do with the present conversation. Maybe it's just another one of those things that she doesn't quite understand.

Seeing how puzzled her friend is, Santana's expression softens slightly and she offers a small smile. "I mean I'm fine."

"Oh." But now Brittany's even more confused because she knows for a fact that the Latina is not fine. She might not ever know why her best friend is upset but she's always the first to recognise when she is.

They continue in silence for a few more minutes, Santana poring over notes and volumes so thick that they make the blonde exhausted just looking at them. Brittany busies herself with staring at the Latina, trying to see whether just by looking she will be able to figure out what is wrong. "San?"

"Mm?" she replies distractedly, not looking up as she continues writing down some notes.

"Why do you lie to me?" Brittany knows she's not very smart, she sees the looks that people give her when she says something that maybe she shouldn't have said, but she also knows that she's Santana-Smart – the blonde knows what every little look, every movement and action, crease of her forehead, mean in regards to her best friend's mood. She's the best person for the job when it comes to helping her best friend because she knows what little things will make her smile and just what to say to make her laugh. So Brittany doesn't understand why Santana would keep anything from her.

The brunette's head shoots up in alarm. "What do you mean? I don't lie to you."

It's another lie because Brittany can always tell when Santana's not being completely honest – the Latina always either clenches her hands or taps her fingers when she lies. She's doing the latter now."Yes you do."

She's not upset by the fact, just confused because she tells Santana everything and she doesn't get why the brunette wouldn't do the same when it comes to her. But, then, Santana can be a very confusing person sometimes. Puck says this is because she's a girl and all girls are confusing but Brittany doesn't find Pregnant Quinn, Strong Mercedes, Goth Tina, Star Rachael and Cute Kurt as confusing as Santana so the advice doesn't make much sense; maybe it's just a Puck thing.

When it looks like Santana's about to protest again, Brittany cuts her off, even though she knows Santana hates it when she does that. "You said you're fine but you look grumpy."

She forces a smile that looks nothing like the real ones the blonde is used to and it kind of hurts to see it. "I'm just pissed at fucking Mr. O'Conner for giving us this stupid assignment. I mean, who besides dumbass scientists need to understand Entropy?"

"What's Entropy?" Brittany isn't very sure what Entropy is, though by the amount of notes Santana has written by now she seems to understand it very well so the blonde doesn't see why it would upset her. She also isn't about to say that she actually likes Mr. O'Conner because last month he gave her a lollipop for getting her first A – he still doesn't know that it was Santana who actually did the work.

"A disorganised system or whatever," Santana responded distractedly, waving away the comment. "I'm not lying to you."

Brittany stares at her for a moment, really looks at her, because she wishes she wasn't lying, she doesn't want her best friend to lie to her but she's not stupid. She may be a little dimmer than other people but she's not stupid, not when it comes to Santana. "But you're not telling the truth either."

Something like pain flashes in Santana's eyes and the stare is broken, the Latina busying herself with flipping a page in her textbook. "You know what, Britt? I think maybe you should go. You don't need

to be here for this. Go make out with Jackie Chan or whatever." She doesn't look at her when says this and Brittany's pout deepens.

"I thought you always needed me." Santana had certainly given off that impression. They did everything together and the whole school knew it. Then there were those nights when San would climb in through her bedroom window and curl up beside her in bed, holding her tightly. Sometimes those nights would involve kissing and groping but more often than not Brittany would just hold her because, at night, that was when Santana needed her the most.

For a moment, Santana looks guilty and her mouth opens as if she's about to reassure the blonde but instead she squares her shoulders and turns away once more. "Like I said: Just go have fun with Mike or something."

Brittany's heart gives a little squeeze that is not at all pleasant, not like when she's at Glee club and Santana threads their fingers together, not really caring what the Gleeks will make of the action, and sends her maybe-more-than-a-friend a smile that's meant just for her. This is a painful squeeze, kind of like what Brittany imagines having your heart compressed between Coach Sylvester's shoe and the ground of the football oval would feel like.

It's not a feeling she's used to.

Looking down at the coffee in her lap, no longer as appetizing as it once was, the blonde's nods her head and murmurs something that might have been an 'OK' but she's not entirely sure. Her mouth is too full of the bitter taste of coffee to really notice.

_**A/N: What did you think?**_


	2. The 'Useful' Advice of Peers

_**A/N: Thankyou so, so much for all the reviews, I really appreciate them. **_

. . .

"Ooh! What about that one?"

"No way, are you kidding me? I wouldn't walk down Sesame Street in that outfit."

Kurt and Mercedes are looking over fashion magazines while Quinn, wedged between Mercedes and Puck, puts in her two cents worth every now and again. Finn and Puck meanwhile are engaged in their own conversation, a rare occurrence after the whole Finn's-Not-Actually-The-Father-Of-Quinn's-Baby thing went down.

Brittany found the mismatched gang shortly after leaving Santana in the library. While usually the idea of fighting with Kurt over who would look best in the latest fashion extravaganza would have her smiling her usual million dollar smile, it doesn't have much appeal now after what happened earlier with her best friend.

In fact, the blonde is feeling the bluest she's ever felt in a long time and it's not so much that Santana had hurt her feelings but rather that the Latina is clearly upset and Brittany doesn't know what to do about it. Ever since they were kids, the Cheerio has known just what to do to put a smile on the brunette's face and without that knowledge she feels, for the first time in her life, like the dumb blonde girl everyone supposes her to be.

"You alright, Britt?" Quinn asks with concerned eyes and a reassuring smile. It's a look she's only recently developed since becoming the school outcast and Brittany prefers it much better over what Santana calls her 'I'm-the-best-so-bow-down-before-me' look. It reminds the taller girl of when she was little and her mother used to tuck her into bed and spoon feed her chicken soup to fight away whatever illness she had at the time.

Brittany pouts because thinking about those times reminds her of when Santana would come over on the exact same days, pop in the blonde's favourite Disney movie, and cuddle up beside her on the couch. But this hasn't happened since Santana got her new stepfather, at which point the Latina deemed Disney movies completely ridiculous. Though, Brittany is convinced that the reason her best friend has so many nightmares now is because she no longer watches those ridiculous Disney movies; after all, Santana never had nightmares before then.

"I think Santana's sad," she responds dully, far from her usual bubbly self.

Quinn looks doubtful and Kurt and Mercedes pause in their activity to exchange disbelieving looks. Surprisingly, it's Puck who answers, not looking at her as he amuses himself with tossing a football up in the air and catching it. "If you think she is, Blondie, then she probably is."

Brittany nods her head firmly. Since Puck has known Santana even longer than she has then he's likely to know these things. "What do I do?"

"What do you usually do when she's sad?" Quinn asks, rubbing her bulging belly. She doesn't look like she really believes the Head Cheerio could be displaying such a human emotion as sadness but seems to have decided that she might as well just go along with it for now.

Brittany thinks about the question for a moment. "I give her a Slushie to throw at someone. But last time that happened she threw ot at Rachael and then Rachael got really upset. I don't want to make Rachael sad again." It's a real dilemma as Brittany finds Rachael kind of fun, especially when the brunette lets her dress her up like a doll and put make-up on her. Yes, Rachael is very much like her own little doll and Brittany has never made any of her dolls sad before. Still, she supposes if it come down to Santana or Rachael she wouldn't have much of a choice.

Quinn scoffs. "Trust me, not throwing a Slushie at that fashion victim is far more of a crime than actually throwing one at her." Mercedes and Kurt share an amused look and Finn scowls at her. Ever since getting pregnant, the blonde hasn't much been one for making fun of people but on the days when the baby makes her extremely moody and ill-tempered all bets are off, at least that's what Santana told her (Santana has also told her lots of other things about Quinn but none of them are very flattering).

Brittany doesn't really get it. She doesn't understand why a baby would want to spend so much time in somebody's else's tummy where there can't be much to do and you certainly can't dance in someone's tummy and Brittany loves to dance. Surely, they should be asking Quinn's baby – who she heard Finn call Drizzle once – what it wants and whether it would like to come out for a little while to dance. Maybe then, Quinn wouldn't be so moody and she could even go back to wearing her Cheerio's outfit and come back to practice with them again.

She asked Santana about this once but she said that the baby was like a fishy and Quinn's stomach was like its tank or the ocean and it has to stay in there where it can live and be safe. Brittany still doesn't really get it because she put her ear to Quinn's tummy once to see whether she could hear the ocean but nothing happened, except for Quinn looking kind of freaked out.

Still, she'll trust the Latina on this because Santana's the smartest person the blonde knows and because of that she's always right. Maybe she should see about getting a bigger fish tank for Drizzle and then the fishy could come out and have a swim, maybe even dance. It must be awfully dark inside Quinn's fish-tank tummy and Brittany hates the dark.

"Maybe it's her step-dad – he's usually the one that pisses her off the most," Puck offers absentmindedly.

Quinn makes a face. "I know what you mean; the guys a complete creep. Last time I was there, he practically stared at my boobs the entire time. I mean, I know they've gotten . . . slightly more embellished since Beth but that's just freaky." The blonde blushes as everyone's eyes drop to her breast at her words and she tries to cover up her embarrassment with a scowl.

"'Embellished' doesn't even cover it, babe," Puck comments with a smirk, eyes firmly focused on Quinn's wrack. Brittany on the other hand doesn't know what embellished means or what it could have to do with the blonde's boobs.

"Puck!" Quinn's scolds.

While this is all very interesting, Brittany struggles to figure out how Quinn's boobs could make Santana feel better. She knows that her own usually do but the brunette's never said anything about the former Cheerio's before. "Do you think Santana would like them?"

The reaction is immediate. Quinn flushes a deep shade of tomato red, Finn's eyes bug and Kurt and Mercedes are left chocking back laughter. Puck just gets a kind of dreamy look on his face and nods his head.

"You know what, Britt, I think she might," he tells her and Brittany beams, beginning to believe that she's just found the cure to Santana's grumpiness.

"Oh my God! Seriously, Puck?" the pregnant sixteen-year-old squeals, glaring daggers at him.

"What?" he asks innocently. "She likes Brittany's well enough."

The blonde nods in agreement, "It's true," and everyone, bar Puck, turns to stare at her gaping.

Kurt's the first to speak. "We need to have a serious talk."

Now she's definitely confused. "I thought we were. We're trying to figure out how to help Santana."

Mercedes makes a face. "That's a scary thought." Kurt murmurs in agreement and Brittany nods. The idea that something's wrong with Santana is indeed very scary and she's glad to see that everyone else seems to be on board with her. She thought that getting Mercedes and Kurt to help might be a little hard because for whatever reason they don't seem to like Santana very much but obviously she was wrong – they both see how important this is.

"I'm beginning to think that maybe we shouldn't be a part of this," Kurt decides. "Seeing as our fantastic skills are better used for sabotaging the Bitch Goddess rather than helping her. I just think it would be a conflict of interest." Mercedes nods in support of this and even Quinn looks about ready to agree.

Finn however seems to be thinking hard, face screwed up in concentration. "Maybe she got hurt again."

"What do you mean 'again'?" Quinn questions with a scowl. Brittany thinks she must be very hungry because that's when people are usually short tempered or maybe it's just the fishy playing up again. The blonde promises herself that she will have to have a good talk with that fishy later, after she finds a way to make Santana happy again.

Finn looks kind of frightened by the look on Quinn's face and rushes to reply. "I just mean the bruises on her thighs. She got pretty grumpy about those last time so maybe it's that."

Puck stiffens and Quinn narrows her eyes. "Excuse me? When did you get a chance to see Santana's thighs?"

Everyone seems to be extremely interested now and Finn flushes red, realizing his mistake. "Uh . . ."

"Did you see them when you guys had sex?" Brittany asks, hoping to help him along as it seems that he's having trouble remembering just when he saw Santana's thighs. That's usually when she sees the bruises but the brunette always assures her that they're just from Cheerio practice. Still, the blonde always makes extra sure to kiss them better when she sees them because that's what her Mummy and Daddy do for her and it always makes her feel better. She thinks it makes Santana feel better as well because she always smile when Brittany does it.

Silence overcomes them and everyone is left to glance in astonishment between Finn and Brittany, each taking their turns to make chosen exclamations.

"Hold up! You did _what_?" Mercedes.

"Oh my gosh!" Kurt.

"Finn!" Quinn.

"Wait, you slept with Santana? Since when do you sleep with my girl?" Puck.

"What do you mean, 'your girl'?" Quinn intercepts, looking furious at Puck and momentarily forgetting about Finn. "Since when is Santana '_your _girl'?"

"Oh, come on, Quinn," Puck responds, looking surprised by the sudden turn around. He obviously doesn't understand how a girl he's not dating could be upset with his involvement with someone else; this is what Santana would call the stupidity of the male species. Though, Brittany doesn't much get it either. "You know Santana's always been my girl. I was calling her that back in kindergarten and I didn't even like girls then."

"Fine, Santana's 'your girl'. But what am I, just the mother of your child?"

"Of course not, Quinn," Puck reassures quickly. "You're my _other_ girl."

The blonde doesn't look impressed and Brittany frowns not really getting why they're arguing over this – everyone knows that Santana is hers. Finn on the other hand seems happy enough to be out of the spotlight and Mercedes and Kurt have returned to their magazine, the drama of the conversation too much for them.

As Quinn and Puck continue their argument, Brittany turns to Finn, hoping that she will be able to get some better help from him. "What do you think?"

He looks confused. "About Puck and Quinn?"

"No, about San."

He shrugs his shoulders and gives her a dopey boy smile. "I don't know. But when you come up with something I promise I'll help you with it."

Brittany beams and springs forward, enveloping him in a grateful hug; it's so nice to know that people are as committed to Santana as she is. Quinn and Puck stop their argument momentarily to stare at the pair in disbelief and even Kurt and Mercedes look up long enough to raise their eyebrows questioningly.

Finn's a nice person to hug. His big and cuddly like a bear and for a moment Brittany contemplates asking him to hug Santana to see whether that will make her feel better. She discards the idea though when she remembers the conversation they had one night when the brunette had admitted that Brittany was the only person she liked hugging her. The blonde doesn't really understand that seeing as she likes getting hugs from everyone but, since she does like Santana-hugs the most, maybe she slightly gets it.

"Oh no, Bitcharella at three o'clock," Kurt interrupts, looking over their shoulders at someone approaching them.

Brittany frowns and glances at the watch on Finn's wrist. "But it's only twelve." They ignore her and she turns around to see who they're all staring at. It's Santana, marching towards them and looking grumpier than ever. The blonde's frown turns into a pout; foolishly, a part of her had been hoping that the brunette's mood would get better as the day progressed.

"Don't worry. I got this," Puck tells them and Brittany smiles at him, pleased. As Santana gets closer, he smirks at her and calls out. "Yo, Babe, look what I got!" The Latina's eyes narrow suspiciously and as she finally reaches them, Puck reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of black panties.

"Son of a bitch!" Santana curses and the gang move back as she springs at the footballer who quickly jumps to his feet and runs away. "Come back here, I'm going to kill you, you little bastard!"

"Come and get 'em, babe!"

The five Glee kids watch as the Cheerio and Puck start running around the oval, the boy a safe five feet in front of the furious brunette who looks about ready to slaughter him. Brittany cocks her head, trying to make sense of the scene and Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Idiot. Like that's going to improve her mood any."

"_I swear, Puck, I am going to _kill _you if you don't give me those back!"_

Finn frowns. "Does he really carry those around with him all day?"

Brittany sighs and rests her chin on her hand, beginning to think that maybe she should see someone else about helping her out with Santana. All the while, she tries to ignore the little ache in her heart, growing steadily bigger, reminding her that her best friend in the whole world barely even glanced her way.


	3. Left Out in the Cold

" _. . . I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave_

_My heart won't move, it's incomplete_

_Wish there was a way that I can make you understand . . ."_

…_._

"I really don't see what you want me for," Rachael states as she walks down the hallway of McKinley High on the way to class, Brittany just a step or two behind her. Her school books are clutched tightly in her folded arms and her eyes are set firmly on the lookout for anyone about to throw a Slushie her way.

The blonde frowns, not understanding how the brunette couldn't see after the amount of explaining she had gone through. "Santana's upset; I need you to help me make her feel better."

Rachael scoffs. "Helping the Wicked Witch of the West is the last thing I want to do on my Mondays. I have piano and dance lessons after school that I can't be late for and there is absolutely no way I am going to tarnish my perfect school record to skip classes and help someone who regularly throws Slushies in my face."

"That was my fault," Brittany admits, hoping to sway Rachael over to Santana's side as she remembers the last time her best friend was upset and she armed her with the very Slushie that wound up all over the Diva's face.

The born performer ignores this. "Do you realize how long it takes to wash artificial drinks out of your hair? I will have no hope of being a star if my hair is permanently damaged by Slushie Facials as it surely will be if this continues on."

"But at least you get a free Slushie. They taste nice," the blonde tells her with a smile, remembering just how much she loves the drinks, especially when Santana buys them for her. Brittany doesn't know why but they always seem to taste better that way.

Rachael pauses momentarily in confusion before continuing on with her brisk pace, head held high. "I don't think we're communicating properly. I am not going to help Santana."

"Please, Rachael. I can make sure that nobody gives you a Slushie Facial for the rest of the week." Technically, Brittany can't do this but she's sure if she asks Santana, her friend will be able to do something, after she's gotten her in a better mood, of course.

Again Rachael stops but this time she drags Brittany over to the side of the hallway, up against some lockers that don't look nearly as clean as her and Santana's own ones. "Deal."

Brittany smiles thankfully at her and the Jewish girl offers her own small one back. "What should I do to make Santana happy again?"

Rachael thinks about it for a moment, face contemplative, before a light bulb goes off in her head. "When I'm sad, my dads always get me a Care Bear. Or a glass of water, but I don't think that'll help Santana much; I'm sure she drinks enough water as it is. Unless she doesn't, in which case you should definitely get her a glass of water."

Brittany frowns because she knows for a fact that Santana doesn't like stuffed animals and she doubts that water will help, especially since it doesn't taste nice like Slushies. "San says toys are freaky and they creep her out at night."

The other girl looks confused, clearly not understanding how anyone could find such cute things as stuffed toys freaky. "Why do they creep her out?" Brittany doesn't really understand it either but that's probably because she doesn't understand a lot of things.

"She says that it's like they're watching her in her sleep and I don't want to give Santana anymore nightmares." Especially when sometimes those nightmares make her best friend cry and Brittany hates it more than anything else in the world when San cries.

"The witch gets nightmares?"

Brittany sighs and leans back against the lockers; already she knows that Rachael Berry's not going to be much help. After all, the only suggestion she's made so far has the possibility to permanently scar Santana for life and that would only make things worse. She needs someone who is familiar with this area, who knows how to help people and wouldn't be opposed to doing so like Rachael Berry. Someone who Santana's never thrown a Slushie at.

. . .

" _. . . So how do you expect me_

_to live alone with just me_

_'Cause my world revolves around you_

_It's so hard for me to breathe . . ."_

. . .

Brittany stares at Miss Pillsbury as she diligently tidies up her desk; at least, the blonde thinks it can be called tidying but she's really not that sure as what the redhead is doing borders more towards on some kind of ritual from that show about the short girl who kills vampires (she's almost tempted to ask whether the Guidance Councillor preparing to summon up a demon) rather than what Brittany's mother refers to as 'spring cleaning'. It's a little strange and very confusing.

"So, Brittany, what brings you here today?" Emma asks, glancing up as she sprays the tabletop with water or what looks like water, the blonde's not really sure. "The last time I saw you, you told me your little sister hid the Locke Ness Monster under your bed and it was helping your cat to read your diary. Is it giving you any more trouble?"

Brittany recalls the so called monster Miss Pillsbury is referring to and smiles, remembering the relief she'd felt when her sister had informed her that she and West Brody had decided to take Nessie back to Scotland, where it belonged, because it was awfully homesick; Brittany was just glad that she didn't have to worry about her cat getting an accomplice anymore, though the tortoiseshell next door seemed to be hanging around a lot, suspiciously so. "Oh no, Miss Pillsbury; West and Abbey set him free again. He's very happy now."

"Oh, that's . . ." Emma nods her head, unable to think of anything, before plastering on a smile and deciding to change the topic. "So what's the problem now?"

"Santana's upset."

"Oh?" the redhead responded, pushing her cleaning supplies away and folding her hands in front of her on the table. "What makes you think that?"

"She didn't want any of my coffee," Brittany tells her in an obvious tone, not seeing how Emma could miss that. Isn't she supposed to be a councillor? The blonde thought councillors knew everything and that's why they tell students what to do. Has Miss Pillsbury lost her counselling powers?

Worry creeps into the Cheerio's mind as she rethinks being here. If Emma has lost her powers then she won't be able to help her with Santana after all and Brittany will have to think of someone else to ask, something that will no doubt take forever. For a moment she wonders whether Miss Sylvester will be of any help but decides against it when she remembers that the coach, according to Santana, doesn't really like to help anyone. Plus, sometimes Coach Sylvester scares her.

For a moment, Miss Pillsbury just looks confused. "I see. And why do you think that that means Santana's upset?"

"Santana always drinks coffee on a Monday morning, especially when I ask her to. One Monday, she wanted coffee so much, and I didn't have any, that she knocked some freshman out and stole his," she informs the councillor gravely, trying to get her point across. This is a very serious situation. "He was in the hospital for a week. Quinn said he had a con–coc–coconutcussion." Her eyes brighten as she finally decides on the word that Quinn must have used. Or was it concussion? She frowns, suddenly indecisive.

Emma's eyes widen. "Oh."

Brittany nods her head solemnly. "Yeah." It must have been cocunutcussion then.

Santana doesn't enjoy coffee as much as Brittany – for example, she never kissed a stunned Principal Figgins in order to snatch his when the canteen was sold out for an entire week last year – but she still likes it a lot and would never turn down any that Brittany offered.

"Well, um . . . regardless . . ." the redhead trails off for a moment, unsure how to continue. "Do you think that maybe, just this once, maybe Santana wasn't in the mood for coffee?"

It's clear the blonde's not getting her point across and, with a disappointed look, she rises from her seat and heads towards the door. Brittany pauses for a moment and looks back. "I'm really sorry you lost your super powers Miss Pillsbury," she says sympathetically before walking out, leaving behind a stunned Councillor in her wake.

. . .

"_. . . Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_Can't live, can't breathe with no air_

_It's how I feel whenever you ain't there_

_It's no air, no air. . ."_

…

Brittany makes her way slowly down the hallways after leaving Miss Pilsbury's office. She knows she has class right now, mostly because there aren't many students around, but she can't remember what class it is or how to get there. Santana's always the one who helps her with that, opening the blonde's locker to get out her necessary books and then linking their pinkies so they can walk to class together. They have a system, Santana and Brittany, and it's one that works very well – Santana looks after Brittany at school while the blonde takes care of her in return at night. But that's not going to work anymore if the brunettes not here to look after her.

Pouting, she makes her way over to her and San's lockers – at least she remembers where those are today – and spends the next ten minutes trying to work out the proper locker combination. She thinks it might have something to do with nines but that's about all she can get. In the end, she spends most of fifth period standing beside her locker and watching the few kids brave enough to skip class mess around in the hallway.

She sighs and tries to think of the next person she can ask for help. There has to be someone out there who knows what's going on with Santana because Brittany needs to make her friend happy again. If Santana's happy again then she'll come back to her and they can drink coffees out on the bleachers and hum Glee songs together like they're not supposed to do in public. They'll have fun again. And Brittany's heart will stop squeezing.

She's too busy trying to come up with a list of possible candidates that she doesn't notice Santana coming out of the girl's bathroom. Nor does she notice Karofsky as he lets out a low whistle of appreciation and makes the terrible mistake of slapping her on the behind. However, she does notice, along with everyone else in the hallway, when the Latina lets out a string of curse words and launches herself at the Hockey player.

Brittany's eyes widen as she watches the scene in front of her, too shocked to try and make sense out of it.

There's a resounding slap throughout the hallway as Santana's hand whips across Karofsky's face and everyone winces sympathetically. Then, much to everyone's shared horror, she's clawing at his face, leaving big, cat-like claw marks across his cheek and Brittany's eyes widen in alarm.

She's never seen Santana so angry before, especially over something as small as this. It doesn't make sense, just like the rest of the brunette's behaviour today doesn't, and she doesn't know what to do. Should the blonde try to stop her? Or should she just stay back and wait for the whole thing to pass?

"Santana!" she wails, trying to grab the brunette's attention. Santana pauses for a moment in her onslaught but quickly continues. Brittany doesn't particularly like Karofsky – he stole her yellow crayon in kindergarten – but she doesn't want to see him become cat chowder beneath her best friend's nails either.

Thankfully, Puck steps in and decides for her. Eyes wide with shock, he wraps his arms around Santana's waist and pulls her off the cowering male.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" the Latina shrieks, arms and legs flailing as she tries to get another hit in.

"Calm down, San!" Puck gasps, trying to avoid being hit himself as he works on fastening Santana's limbs to her sides. "You're over-reacting."

The brunette doesn't appear to appreciate this as she works on getting out of his tight grip. "Let me the fuck go, Puck!" He does so instantly when it looks like she's about to place a well aimed kick to his crotch and, without a backwards glance, she storms off down the hallway. Everyone gapes after her.

"God that bitch is crazy," Karofsky mutters from his place on the floor.

"Shut up!" Puck snaps at him, earning a look from the Home Ec. teacher who had been brought out of her classroom by the commotion. In fact, a lot of students and teachers had been brought out, each one looking more alarmed than the next. Some even have their cell phones out, having videotaped the entire display.

"Wow," Artie, who has wheeled himself up to Brittany side, lets out with a wide-eyed stare. "Wow."

Brittany doesn't pay attention. She's too busy staring after Santana's retreating form because, just for a moment, she swears she might have seen tears in her best friend's eyes. Judging by the angry look on Puck's face as he glares at Karofsky, she thinks he must have seen the same thing.

Swallowing, Brittany wraps her arms around herself, suddenly feeling unreasonably cold.

. . .

"_. . . Got me out here in the water so deep_

_Tell me how you gonna be without me_

_If you ain't here, I just can't breathe_

_It's no air, no air . . ."_

- '_No Air' by Jordin Sparks_


	4. The Problem and How to Fix It

"Maybe it's just that time of the month," Artie suggests helpfully as he watches Tina practice her dance routine in front of them. Glee ended ten minutes ago but, much to the blonde's dismay, Santana was a no-show. To say she's concerned for her best friend is an understatement. To say she's practically running around like Chicken Little screaming, 'the sky is falling, the sky is falling,' might be a little closer to the mark.

She was fidgeting so badly during Glee that Mr. Shu asked whether she had to go to the bathroom. The fact that she_ had_ needed to go was beside the point.

"What time of the month?" she asks, wondering what a month would ever have against Santana and, if that is the case, how do you ask a month to stop having something against someone?

Artie blushes, seemingly unable to explain, and Tina pauses in her dance to look over at them.

"He means that maybe she's on her period." Her cheeks redden slightly after she says the words and she quickly turns away. Artie seems to be in an even worse case, actually looking quite sick, and it is clear to Brittany that Santana might not be the only person that this so-called Month has it out for.

"Oh," the blonde responds after a pause, taking that in and mulling it over. It takes her a little while but eventually she understands what Artie actually meant earlier and that, luckily, there is no need to start planning a defence system against this Month. "No, that's next week."

The boy in the wheelchair looks increasingly uncomfortable and Tina makes a face of revulsion, turning away, banding down to touch her toes in stretch to distract herself.

The Cheerio doesn't really understand the reaction because their health teacher in seventh grade told them that it was a completely natural thing and nothing to be ashamed of but she also happens remember what Santana said once, about how everyone in Glee Club is weird, and lets it slide.

"Look, Brittany," Artie begins hesitantly. "We don't really know anything about Santana other than that she's . . . kind of mean; well, that and she was a full on klepto in the eighth grade. Don't get me wrong, we'd love to help you but we just don't really know how."

She doesn't know what a klepto is, except that it sounds kind of like a small little, furry creature from out of space that she might like to take home one day and name Bob. The fact that Santana, as far as she knows, is not a small furry creature, has never been to out of space and her name's not Bob (though she does sometimes like to take Santana home with her) only makes things more confusing. However, the rest of what Artie says does manage to make some kind of sense and Brittany sighs in defeat, taking a seat. "I just want to make her happy again." It seems like a simple enough thing to do in theory. She herself is happy almost all the time and even if she's not it doesn't take much to make her so. Making Santana Lopez happy, however, is turning out to be another thing entirely.

Artie reaches out an arm and pats her shoulder sympathetically, Tina offering her a small, reassuring smile. Brittany tries to smile back, she really does, but it's proving to be a lot more difficult than usual and eventually she just gives up. Santana being unhappy is making her terribly unhappy as well but there doesn't seem to be anything she can do about it.

For the next twenty minutes, Brittany and Artie watch the Asian girl practice her dance, hoping for inspiration to strike her and point her in the way of curing Santana's grumpiness.

It doesn't.

In fact, Brittany spends so much time and effort trying to wait for inspiration and its strike that it's only when Mr. Shu calls out to her questioningly half an hour later that she realizes Artie and Tina have left. She's now the only one left in the choir room. And it's odd because Brittany not used to being alone – with Santana by her side she doesn't have to be – and she's not sure she likes it very much.

"You OK, Brittany?" the Glee coach asks in concern.

Brittany likes Mr. Shu. He's warm and fuzzy and kind of makes her feel the same way rainbows do. Sometimes when he smiles the blonde's sure she can see Mother Mary, who the Preacher talks about all the time at church on Sunday mornings, shining through and looking down at them adoringly. Santana tells her she's just being silly because for one: Mr. Shu isn't a girl, for two: he's not the mother of Jesus, and for three: she doubts very much that he's still a virgin.

Nevertheless, Brittany still calls him Mary sometimes during practice which leads Mr. Shuster to wonder if she's forgotten his name again. It doesn't seem to help matters when she asks him whether he's ever given birth to a little boy named Jesus. He's assured her that he hasn't but Brittany still holds her suspicions.

After all, if one had given birth to Jesus it seems doubtful that they would admit to it, especially if they don't want Jewish people like Rachael and Puck to go after them (she doesn't really know what being Jewish means, except that it has something to do with a But Mr – which is possibly a pie of some sort – but Mr. Fabray said that they were bad, though Santana then told her that Mr. Fabray was the devil so she's not sure what to believe). Mr. Shu seems to like Rachael and Puck and because he wants to stay their friends he's not going to tell anyone that he's actually the Virgin Mary. In her head it all makes sense but out loud, in front of Santana, it's apparently not right at all. But then, Santana hates church and hasn't gone since she was little so Brittany decides that she might not be the best expert on this subject.

She'll have to ask Quinn later.

"Santana's sad," the blonde mumbles, to which he smiles sympathetically and takes a seat beside her.

"That's not good. Do you know why?"

Brittany shakes her head dejectedly. "I don't like it when she's sad, Mr. Shu. It makes my tummy hurt and sometimes my heart feels like Coach Sylvester's squeezing it really hard." He nods understandingly and the blonde continues. "The worst thing is though that she's mad at me and Santy's never mad at me."

"Did you do anything?" Mr. Shu asks, though he doesn't sound accusing at all, just curious. She kind of wishes he would sound accusing because Brittany knows she's done something wrong and when you do something wrong you're supposed to get punished. She doesn't really like the idea of being punished but she likes getting away with hurting Santana even less.

"I don't know. She's always the one who tells me if I do something wrong. And then she helps me make it better." The blonde feels lost without Santana to help guide her and, really, she thinks that the brunette's the only one who will know how to make own self feel better but Brittany's already asked her and that didn't work.

Mr. Shuster smiles comfortingly at her. "That sounds nice."

Brittany nods her head, staring at her hands in her lap. Silence fills the choir room for a few minutes but she's still happy that he's there because so far he's the only person who seems like they actually want to help, the only person who cares. Although, Kurt did offer up his services to give Santana a facial earlier. "The other kids in Glee, they don't really like Santana very much, do they?"

"No, they don't," he answers truthfully, smiling sadly.

She doesn't know why it surprises her, after all, she has suspected it for quite some time now, but it does. Mostly because Brittany tries her best to ignore all the mean things Santana says to people and things they say and do behind her back in return. It's not that hard to do really because everyone's really quiet about it because no-one wants Santana to know what they really think and say about her. Sadly, Brittany thinks that the Latina actually knows better than anyone.

She pouts and looks up at him. "I just want them to see how special she is. And she is, you know – special. She's the most special person I know." The blonde really doesn't understand why everyone else can't see that because she saw it from the moment she first met Santana. Back when they were just kids and the Latina promised to buy her a rainbow one day after Brittany told the class in an oral presentation that it was what she wanted most in the entire world and they all just laughed at her. But Santana didn't laugh, she didn't laugh at all.

She's special, even if nobody can see it but her.

"I believe you, Brittany. I really do."

"What do you think I should do?"

He thinks about it for a moment and Brittany sighs, thinking she's hit another dead end. Sooner or later she's going to have to face the fact that she's only one who knows how to make Santana smile and that asking everyone else how to do it just isn't going to work at all. "Maybe you and the Glee kids could throw a party?" Mr. Shu suggests, eyebrows knitted together in thought. "I know for one that a party always proves to cheer me up when I'm down. Or maybe you could sing her a song."

A light bulb goes off in Brittany's head and her eyes widen. She's probably wrong but . . . "Mr. Shu, what's the date?"

"Uh . . . the 19th." She stares at him questioningly for a moment longer and he continues. "Of May."

It's so obvious that the blonde honestly doesn't know how she missed it in the first place and a deep feeling of guilt sets in as the pieces begin falling into place.

Some friend she is.

Brittany pouts and sits back in her chair; no wonder Santana is so angry with her.

. . .

The next few hours are quite possibly some of the toughest of Brittany's young life. Coming up with a way to make San happy again was surprisingly easy as soon as she realized why she was sad in the first place but getting everyone else to play along with her master plan is proving to be much more difficult.

The only ones who readily volunteer their support are Mr. Shu and Miss Pilsbury, but Miss Pilsbury looks more like she's doing it as a survival tactic as she can still remember the last time she got on Santana Lopez's bad side – the blonde doesn't know exactly what happened but, according to Quinn, it wasn't pretty. Brittany's just happy for help, though, especially when it looks like everyone else isn't going to be quite so kind.

"Rachel, please," the blonde begs. She called the Glee club together after school, using the phone numbers Mr. Shu had given her as the Cheerio had lost hers (to her credit, the only phone numbers she can remember are Santana's, Quinn's, her cat's and her parents', and that's because they're on speed dial).

"I'm really not understanding this," the star informs her, looking very uncomfortable, much like the rest of the Gleeks. "Wasn't my Care Bear advice enough?"

Brittany pouts and tries to put on the puppy dog face that Santana always says is really effective. She sees Kurt cringe back in alarm, already futilely trying to fight its power, and Quinn rubs her tummy fearfully.

Mr. Shu claps his hands together to grab everyone's attention when it looks like Artie's going to knock himself out just so he doesn't have to look at the blonde's big, tearful desperate eyes any longer. "Guys, I don't see what the problem is. We're a Glee club – we're supposed to help our fellow members out."

"And S is a member," Brittany points out just to make sure that they all know this. She knows it can be easy to forget with the amount of time and effort the Latina puts into glaring at the lot of them. Plus, the blonde sometimes forgets about who the members are as well. She went up to Karofsky the other day to ask him whether they were still doing Lady Gaga in Glee but and he just looked at her funny.

"But, Mr. Shu, if the situation was reversed I can assure you that Santana would not do the same for us," Quinn voices what everyone else is thinking, still smarting from when the other girl, who she had thought to be her best friend, had basically abandoned her in favour of rising in the social pyramid. This pivotal fact is something Brittany has gotten from Mercedes when she asked the girl last week why Quinn, she and Santana didn't have slumber parties anymore. She would have asked Santana, or Quinn, but they were fighting at the time.

"You can't know that, Quinn," their teacher reminds. "None of you can."

Brittany nods her head, agreeing with him. While she knows better than anyone the number of names and insults the Head Cheerio has managed to come up with for her fellow Gleeks, she also knows that, in some way, Santana also views them as her friends.

"I'm sorry, but I can still remember when Skinny shoved me around over the whole Puck thing," Mercedes spoke up, looking suitably irritable, and eliciting a smirk from the footballer himself.

"But Puck's hers," Brittany points out, not seeing why the rest of them can't see this. "She took his virginity." And, according to Madonna (she thinks), this makes him hers.

All eyes turn to a very embarrassed Puck, eyebrows raised, and Mr. Shu clears his throat uncomfortably. "Um, thanks for that input, Brittany."

The blonde beams. "You're welcome."

The choir room falls into silence and the blonde looks around at everyone, wondering whether she should give the Puppy Dog Eyes another try. She needs to make Santana happy and to do that she needs their help. She'll do anything to get their help.

"I'm in," Finn sighs, causing everyone's heads to snap around to look at him in confusion. "I promised Brittany I'd help with whatever she came up with," he says defensively, shifting uncomfortably and earning a delighted smile from said Cheerio.

Kurt looks at Finn, eyes wide, before turning to Brittany with a strained smile. "I'll help – nobody can organise a party better than I can." She thinks his offer might have something to do with the moon eyes he gives Finn all day, every day but the blonde doesn't point this out. She knows what it's like to be in love with someone and be so close that you can almost feel their love right back but you can't say a thing. She knows what it's like because Santana told her once, looking at her in a very peculiar way whilst doing so. And then she kissed her. And then they had sex. And then they went to the diner down the street for breakfast with the Glee Club (the blonde having to practically drag the other girl there). And then Berry started annoying Santana so the Latina accidentally set her top on fire.

Still, even amongst all that, Brittany thinks she kind of understands what her best friend was talking about. Because she knows Santana loves her, knows it just like she knows one plus one equals three – it's a given fact. Still, the Latina's never said it to her, not once (she'll say 'you too' or 'right back at you' but never actually 'I love you'), and she's always talking about how they can't kiss and stuff in public (that part Brittany doesn't really get, no matter how hard she tries, because kissing is nice, kissing Santana is especially, so kissing in public would also probably be nice). So she thinks Santana was talking about her when she said it.

Especially since it was just after Brittany told her she loved her.

Rachael frowns and locks gazes with Brittany, eyes stern as she makes her demand. "No slushies for the rest of the month."

And the blonde beams because she knows all she has to do is smile at Santana and the Latina will make the Jewish girl's wish come true. When she's in a better mood, of course."Done."

Mercedes sighs and scowls around at everyone. Brittany doesn't like it when she scowls because it makes her look kind of like the trolls Santana would tell her about in bedtime stories when they were younger. She likes it better when Mercedes smiles or laughs because, apart from when it comes to Santana (everything she does is better), they're the most beautiful things in the world when she does them. "I hate it when y'all make me seem like the bad guy. Fine, I'll help with Queen B, but only this once. And only because I don't want to be the villain."

Artie and Tina nod along with her and Brittany throws them a little enthusiastic wave of gratefulness which they return awkwardly. All eyes turn to Quinn and Puck (Matt and Mike have never had anything against Santana so there's no need to wonder whether they'll help), seated beside each other. The pregnant girl is staring determinedly at her feet while Puck just looks confused at all their stares.

"What are you all staring at me for? She's my girl, of course I'm in," he points out as if it's obvious and they all should have guessed so earlier.

Brittany's so happy for his help that she doesn't bother to correct him and say that Santana is most definitely _her_ girl (everyone knows that). Quinn's still staring at her feet and fiddling with her hands, apparently the comment about Santana being Puck's girl gliding right over her.

"Quinn?" Mr. Shu asks with concern and the blonde Dutch girl frowns in confusion. She can still remember days when she, Quinn and Santana would sunbake together on the roof of the Latina's house, and the sleepovers where they shared all the latest gossip and fought over which boy was the hottest. It's because of this that she still doesn't understand why they don't still do those things, why Quinn's pregnancy changed anything, and why Santana, on her bad days, mostly glares at the former Cheerio. Most of all, she doesn't understand why they're not friends anymore because they should be.

The pregnant teen looks up and forces a smile that even Brittany can see isn't at all true. "Sure I'll come. I'll even bring the cake."

"Coffee cake," Brittany orders with a smile.

Quinn's brow furrows. "I don't think they-"

"Coffee."

"OK."

. . .

_**A/N: OK, what do you think? And I know I made Quinn sound a little meaner than she should be but all will be explained in the next chapter, which is in Santana's P.O.V.**_

_**I don't actually know if they make coffee cake – I know they make tea cake – but I'll google it later to find out. **_

_**And thankyou so much for the reviews, by the way.**_


	5. Demons

_**A/N: Sorry for the late update. So this is the chapter in Santana's P.O.V. that basically just explains what was going through her mind while poor Brittany was freaking out. The next one will be back in Brittany's P.O.V, and then I'm thinking of just mixing it up a bit. **_

_**Warning: This chapter is very angsty and, sadly, does not have any of the fluffiness I added to Brittany's chapters. **_

…

"_I searched my world but I can't find you_

_You're standing there but I can't touch you_

_Try to talk but the words are just not there . . ."_

_Demons by Brian McFadden_

Santana hates Mondays; though, she doesn't actually know of anyone who _likes_ Mondays but still she hates them. She hates them even more when they fall on her birthday, the one day of the year that's supposed to be all about her. Of course, since her mother has made it quite clear over the years that nothing is ever about her, she really shouldn't have expected much. Except she did, deep down.

Garry left early this morning and will be out of town for the rest of the week which means that Santana no longer has to worry about sneaking around and locking her bedroom door at night. It also means that she doesn't have to go to Brittany's just to take a shower because their bathroom door is minus a lock as she found out shortly after her stepfather moved in.

A part of her also foolishly hoped that without her new husband hanging around to keep her mother distracted that maybe Santana might just get a 'happy birthday' this year. Which just goes to show how stupid she is because Mummy dearest doesn't even want to think about the day she was born let alone celebrate it.

Now, sitting in the library with her _best friend, _who also seems to have forgotten her birthday, she can't help but be pissed. It's irrational, really, because Brittany on a regular basis can't even remember what day of the week it is let alone the actual date and Santana knows this so she shouldn't be so angry. Nonetheless, she is, increasingly so, and the blonde's puppy dog looks are only slightly helping her case.

She doesn't like being angry with Brittany – she's _never_ angry with Brittany – and she wants it to stop now, _now_ Unfortunately, Santana has never been able to control her emotions very well which is why she tells the blonde to leave, in a futile effort to get rid of her before the brunette says something she'll regret.

The only thing is, as soon as the blonde _is_ gone, she just feels cold. And alone. The brunette thought she was alone before but now with Brittany gone she really, really is. Completely and truly. It's not a nice feeling and it makes her clench her fist and her curse her mother for putting her in this bad mood in the first place.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, head cradled within the pages of an old McKinley High chemistry book – not surprising after her step-father kept her up all night in order to give her a 'proper goodbye' – because instantly she finds herself in the realm of nightmares again. It's not something that happens every time she sleeps, thank God, but it certainly happens a lot and without Brittany nearby to kiss her forehead and stroke her skin, they don't just fade away into nothingness.

It's dark and it's lonely in her head, the kind of loneliness one gets when they realize that there's no-one left to help them in the entire world. It leaves a bitter taste on the brunette's tongue and while, in her sleep, she runs from the feeling; in the real world she doesn't move a muscle. It's completely trapping, a vortex sucking her into a black lagoon of dark souls and fear, until she finally hits bottom.

In waking up, Santana instinctively reaches for Brittany, used to having her at her side when she needs her, and grasps only empty air. It's even more of a shock to raise her head and find herself in the school library with nothing but that stupid Jewfro kid, who is currently staring at her funny, for company; Fantastic.

Needless to say, the Latina is out of the library in a flash, school books and papers tucked protectively under her arms. She'll have to make a quick stop at her locker because she'll be damned if the rest of the school realizes that she actually does school work and isn't just a pretty (scary) face like she wants them all to believe; especially if Jacob is going to be blogging later today that Santana Lopez still gets nightmares.

Oh, how she loves this school.

. ..

"_I can feel a sense of danger_

_You stare at me like I'm a stranger_

_Paralysed and you don't seem to care_

_The demons in my dreams."_

_Demons by Brian McFadden_

…

She makes her way out onto the football oval ten minutes later, not exactly wanting anyone's company, still very much angry (hurt) with Brittany – which is ridiculous because Santana has to remind the cheerio when her _own_ birthday is and shouldn't expect her to remember the Latina's on top of that – but needing the blonde by her side nonetheless.

The Glee kids, minus a few, are seated on the bleachers, having what seems to be a very serious and deep conversation (for them, anyway). Quinn and Puck appear to be in the middle of an argument and Brittany's pouting an awful lot for her. Noticing this puts a sinking feeling in Santana's gut that she tries desperately to ignore because she knows that she's the one who put that pout there.

Any normal friend would apologise right then, maybe even suck up with some chocolate, but Santana just winces for a moment before continuing on with her approach, barely even sparing the blonde a glance. It's cruel and childish but Santana's always been one to let her temper run away with her and right now her temper's at breakneck speed.

She hears Kurt mutter something about a 'Bitcharella' approaching (who she assumes to be her) but ignores it and settles in front of them, hands on her hips. Brittany gives her a little wave but she pretends she doesn't see it, which, in the end, probably hurts her more than it does the blonde.

The next few minutes are filled with her racing after idiot Puckerman who Santana can't believe had the nerve to not only steal her panties from the last time they were together but to dangle them in front of almost the entire Glee club as well. She knew there was a reason she broke up with him.

It takes her maybe five minutes to catch the evil son of a bitch and by 'catch' she means pounce on him and knock him to the ground. Somewhere back on the bleachers, Kurt and Mercedes give sympathetic 'Ooh!'s and she thinks she can see a slight smirk playing across Quinn's lips; Finn just looks scared out of his mind, no doubt frightened that she might come back for seconds and choose him.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Puckerman?" she snaps, not caring that she's got him pinned to the ground in a rather precarious position, her skirt riding up for all the world to see. The boy just smirks back at her, dangling the black panties in her face, and she snatches them angrily out of his grip – she's been looking for these for the past two weeks!

"Just wanted to get you away from the crowd – you looked like you were about to kill someone," he tells her lazily, folding his arms behind his head and sizing her up, or more likely checking her out. He doesn't seem to care that he's got a fiery Latina Cheerio straddled across his waist but, then again, what hot-blooded male would?

Santana sneers. "How caring of you."

"Hey, I might not care what you do to the rest of them but my baby happens to be a part of that crowd."

She's not impressed. "How touching."

"Also, I wanted to ask you whether you were alright."

This gets a raised eyebrow out of her for not only is it strange for Puck to ask anyone besides his baby mama whether they're 'alright' but it's even stranger for him to ask _her_. Santana's pretty sure that since the first day of kindergarten they've had an unwritten rule between them not to coddle the other when their down and that includes asking them whether they're 'alright'. "And you're asking because?"

"Well, for one: Britt's looking like a kicked puppy, only sadder. Did you guys get in a fight or something?" Not only is the conversation topic weird for them but it's made even weirder by the fact that he seems to be genuinely concerned, which is odd and just a little unsettling. The brunette relies upon Puck to be the one who sees her at her most broken and to still kick her when she's down anyway, not because he's cruel but because he knows she likes the normalcy of the routine. And it proves a brilliant distraction from the actual reality of her situation. It's something that she can rely on.

Santana hates change.

"Or something," she responds noncommittally.

He seems to get it because he nods. "Right."

"What was the second?" she asks in order to drag him away from the subject of Brittany. Thinking about that just makes her want to cry and Santana has a strict no crying rule when it comes to things like this. The only times she actually allows herself to cry is when it's over little things – like losing her tanning privileges – because it's not important and that somehow makes her less vulnerable when she does go all teary-eyed over it.

"You've got a bruise on the back of your neck."

"Shit," she curses, raising a hand to her neck and springing off him as if she's just been burned. The brunette's very good with a makeup brush but even she has trouble hiding things when she doesn't even know they're there. She tries to calm herself down by telling herself that people get bruises all the time and this one's not going to show up on anyone's radar but over a year of paranoia has drilled it into her that this is not a good thing. Not at all.

A part of her is tempted to just spill the beans and get Garry's ass hauled off to jail but a stronger part of her knows that she will never stand for people knowing just how weak she is, just what that bastard has done to her. They'll call her a victim and Santana Lopez is no fucking victim.

"You should get Quinn to help you cover it up," Puck offers lazily. "She's good with all that makeup up and girly shit."

For a moment, all Santana can do is stare at him, stunned. This is the first time that he, or anyone for that matter, has ever so much as broached the topic of what happens to her at home. This is not good. She doesn't want _anyone_ to talk with her about what happens at home, not even Puck. She certainly doesn't want to explain to Quinn why she's got a big ass bruise on her neck. "Fuck you," because it's the only thing she can say and she hates the way her voice trembles.

She hates it even more when she sees the underlying sympathy in his eyes.

Stomping off, Santana grabs a hold of Quinn's hand as she passes the bleachers, yanking the startled blonde off her seat with nothing but a short, "Come on, Tubbers," and leaves the rest of the Gleeks, including Brittany, confused and slightly frightened.

…

"_I felt every ounce of me screaming out,_

_But the sound was trapped deep in me._

_All I wanted just sped right past me,_

_While I was rooted fast to the earth . . ."_

_Signal Fire by Snow Patrol_

…

The trip to the bathroom – with a quick pit stop at Santana's locker to grab her makeup – is short and silent, filled only with warning glances from the Latina whenever Quinn looks like she's about to run for it. The worst part is when she orders the blonde to set to work on her neck and Preggers mouth falls open at the bruise she finds there.

"Santana, how did you get this?" Quinn asks carefully, no doubt noticing the way the Latina's shoulders clench and shudder.

"You were in Cheerios, Q, you know how tough Coach is," she lies easily, pulling her ponytail out of the way so Quinn can reach better.

"Yeah, but, the only bruise I ever got was on my ass from being dropped from the top of the pyramid and this bruise looks like someone bashed you with a computer," the blonde points out quietly. It's a slightly more colourful description of what happened but still fairly accurate, except the weapon of choice was a chair not a computer.

"Look, I can do this myself if you're just going to stand there and ask questions all day," the brunette snaps, even though she knows it's going to be terribly hard to reach the back of her neck and actually do a good job with the concealer as well. Damn Puck for putting this idea in her head.

Taking the hint, Quinn's lips press together in a thin line and she raises the brush to the back of Santana's neck.

"Look, I know we're not exactly friends, S, I mean lately you just glare at me every chance you get," the blonde starts, not looking at her. "But I'm here for you if you need me."

Santana's brow crinkles in annoyance because this conversation could not have come at a worse time. It's hard enough to look at Quinn and her bulging stomach and not be disgusted on a good day but on a bad one? "And what makes you think that I want you to be there for me? That I want you to be my friend?" She swings around and glares at the former Cheerio. "You're a grade A slut Q who slept with her boyfriend's best friend behind his back and got knocked up. I mean, that kid you're carrying is gonna have to pay a price for the rest of their life for what you've done."

Quinn looks suitably hurt. "What makes you think that _I'm_ not going to pay?"

The Latina scoffs. "You_ deserve_ to pay. That kid on the other hand does not. I heard you and Mercedes talking the other day; you're thinking about keeping it, aren't you?" Santana's not stupid and realizes some of her own issues are leaking into this conversation but to be honest she doesn't really care.

The blonde places a hand over her stomach, protectively. "What if I was?" she tries to sound defiant but Santana doesn't miss the tremble in her bottom lip.

"You're _sixteen_ years old! What makes you think that either your or Puck is ready for this? You don't even have a real home to leave in, you're just mooching off Puck and his mum, and I'm sure your piggy bank only goes up to $50." Santana places a hand on her hip, cocks it, and narrows her eyes. It's the perfect standoff pose and the Cheerio has it down to perfection, even to the point where it comes into play without her even realizing it because right now she's not thinking about any poses, she's just letting her anger run away with her. And it feels _good_. "You're going to ruin that baby's life, Quinn." Just like her mother ruined hers.

The former Cheerio seems lost for words for a moment but sparks fly in her eyes after a pause and her hands clench. "I _love _my baby," she says with forced calm. "And you're wrong." Quinn turns away and heads for the door, not giving Santana time to respond to that. Halfway there, she pauses and looks back, eyes cold. "You're a real bitch, Santana. But, at least with Brittany by your side, you're a bitch with a friend. Without her you're nothing." She turns to go but pauses, another thought occurring to her. "And for the record, I may be knocked up, I may have even cheated, but at least I'm not the one who's slept with the entire football team and then some. So I'd think twice about calling someone a slut. Happy birthday, S."

The Latina swallows, glare firmly in place, and Quinn's steps out the bathroom door, one hand placed firmly on her belly as if the mere action of doing so will turn all of Santana's accusations into falsehoods. The brunette growls and swipes her things off the bench, disappearing out the door after Quinn and nearly knocking a startled Puck, who's been waiting patiently outside trying to look inconspicuous, over in the process.

"Woah!" he exclaims, stepping back in alarm. "You trying to knock me over again, Lopez?"

She ignores him, glances disdainfully over at Quinn's retreating back down the hallway, and stalks off in the opposite direction. Santana's so caught up in the fury coursing through her veins, teeth grinding together over the fact that the only person to remember her birthday is Quinn Fucking Fabray, that she doesn't notice Karofsky standing by one of the lockers.

The wolf-whistle he lets out doesn't even broach her radar but when his hand comes down on her arse, a complete invasion of personal space, she flips. Just like that. Almost like a rubber band pulled to an inch within breaking that it just has to snap. And she does.

Santana launches herself at Karofsky, rage blinding her almost completely, and she tries to claw at his face, hoping that might just be able to tear his greedy little eyes out of their sockets.

Never has she liked to be touched without permission, except for with Brittany but the blonde's got her own set of rules when it comes to her. She'll 'sleep with the entire football team and then some', as Quinn so eloquently put it, but she'll do it because it's _her _choice, because she _wants_ to. And she certainly doesn't want Karofsky's ugly, meaty hand all over her butt without her say so. Of course, she'll never say so when it comes to Karofsky because the guy's 100% jerk with an alarming lack of any redeeming qualities. At least, with the rest of the guys at school they may be jerks but they still, somehow, have something going for them. She's really not sure how.

The Latina reaches up and rakes her nails down the side of Karofsky's face, hoping with a sick sense of sadism that she draws blood. She does, but she's far too angry to smirk triumphantly at the victory.

Down the hallway, Santana hears someone calling her name, sounding considerably upset. She doesn't have to guess to know it's Brittany, she'd know that voice anywhere, and the knowledge sends a stabbing pain through her gut. It triggers the rational side of her brain which starts screaming off words like 'over-reaction', 'crowded place', 'what will everyone think?' and 'think of Brittany.'

They're all very good points.

Nonetheless, that sensible part is quickly overpowered by the raging emotions within and she's back at Karofksy within record time, nails at the read. Santana's just about to have a go at biting him when she feels strong, restraining arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her up, up, up and off Karofsky.

It takes everything in her not to scream in frustration.

The brunette knows it's Puck because the player's the only person in McKinley high who's crazy enough to hold back Santana Lopez against her will, or even approach her for that matter, when she's having one of her 'Rage Blackouts', as Quinn called it last year after watching more of the O.C. than the human body should be able to handle. Well, the only person that is except Brittany but she already knows it's not the blonde.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she shrieks, not caring if she sounds like some crazy banshee from a teenage horror film. What people will think of her is the last thing on the Latina's mind at the moment.

If Santana's honest with herself, she'll admit that it's not really Karofsky who she's angry at; in fact, it's not even really Karofsky who she's seeing.

He's big and he's a jerk . . . and he looks almost exactly like a younger version of her stepfather, which is another reason why she's never slept with him before.

The look the hockey player sends her way can only be described as one of pure hatred and Santana bristles, arms and legs kicking out uncontrollably, searching for any kind of purchase against the guy's head.

"Calm down, San!" Puck gets out finally and she tries her best to hit him as well, anything to get back down on the ground and have another go at Karofsky. He doesn't seem inclined to help her with that, though. "You're over-reacting."

Over-reacting her ass; she's going to _kill_ him after this. "Let me the fuck go, Puck!" Giving up on trying to squirm her way out, Santana decides to use the much time honoured trick of kicking him in the crotch. She misses narrowly but it's enough to get him to immediately let her go so that small detail doesn't really matter, even if she is truly dying now to kill Puckerman in the balls.

Her feet hit the ground and she exhales shakily.

The Latina's not even thinking about Karofsky anymore now, she just wants to get out. She can hear the classroom doors opening, feel the eyes of what must be a major portion of the school on her, _judging_ her, and she wants to get out. She's seriously scared that if she doesn't she might actually murder Puck, and a couple of students unlucky to be close enough to her. And maybe a few random teaches as well, just to convince people she doesn't discriminate (even though she does).

Not looking back at him, or Brittany for that matter, she clenches her hands into fists and stalks off down the hallway. Her cheeks are flushed and slightly wet, though she can't imagine what from (it's not like it's raining _inside_ the _school_!), and Santana resists the urge to wrap her arms protectively around herself.

McKinnley High can do without her for the rest of the day because she can most certainly do without it.

"_I could be stuck here for a thousand years,_

_Without your arms to drag me out."_

_Signal Fire by Snow Patrol_

_..._


	6. Come Home

**_A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, I really appreciate them._**

"_Everything I can't be  
__Is everything you should be  
__And that's why I need you here  
__So hear this now . . ."  
- _'_Come Home' by OneRepublic_

It's an hour and a half after school ends that Brittany finally finds Santana. When she started off on the search she thought it would be kind of like Hansel and Gretel – minus Hansel – following a trail of breadcrumbs .But it's not because this is much harder and the blonde knows there's no witch waiting at the end of the line for her, just a pretty Cheerio that stole her heart years ago.

Santana's sitting cross-legged on a roundabout that doesn't look like it's ever going to turn, her back pressed up against the bars. She doesn't see Brittany approach, though the blonde likes to think she feels her presence, and she refuses to look up when her best friend takes a seat beside her. Brittany watches the Latina trace circles on the surface of the roundabout, seemingly lost in her own world like the blonde herself is a lot.

"Do you remember when we were little and we used to come out here all the time?" Santana starts softly, still not looking up, and although Brittany can barely see her face there's something wistful and sad about it. It makes her heart do that little squeeze thing again and she bites her lip. "We'd gang up on Puck and push him off the swing," the brunette chuckles, but there's nothing really happy about it. "He'd be so mad at us after, he wouldn't talk to us for a week. But that was OK 'cause we had each other. I had _you_." Santana finally turns her head up to look at her and Brittany doesn't like what she sees there. "Do I still have you?" she asks in a small voice, the smallest the blonde's ever heard her use, and it's a surprising thought because Brittany's never considered Santana small before. She knows the other Cheerio is shorter than her, way shorter, but she's never seen her as _small._

Brittany nods her head. "Of course," though, she doesn't really get why Santana is asking because she'll always have Brittany, no matter how angry or how mean she acts, she'll always have her. The blonde wouldn't have it any other way because Santana's the only person in the world who can make her feel like she's flying even though others say she can't even hover a few measly steps above the ground. "Always," Brittany sighs with a smile, wrapping her arms around her best friend's waist and leaning forward sideways to rest her chin on Santana's shoulder. The brunette lets out her own sigh and leans her head back against the blonde's, closing her eyes.

It's the most intimate position they've ever been in, more intimate than sex or kissing, and even though Brittany sometimes doesn't get things, she gets _this_.

…

"_. . . Come home  
__Come home  
__Cause I've been waiting for you  
__For so long  
__For so long  
__And right now there's a war between the vanities  
__But all i see is you and me  
__The fight for you is all I've ever known  
__Ever known  
__So come home  
__Oh. . ."_

- '_Come Home' by OneRepublic_

…

"You missed Glee today," she mumbles. The brunette doesn't move a muscle, just stares at the arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though they hold all the secrets to the world. Brittany's almost tempted to tell her that they don't – she would know if they did – but Santana seems content enough just to stare so the blonde remains silent.

"Did I?"

Brittany nods her head. "Did you forget? Sometimes I forget." But Santana's usually there to remind her. She knows her best friend likes Glee just as much as she does, it's the only time she ever smiles so much; the big smile that Brittany remembers so well from elementary school but a smile that disappeared sometime around freshman year. She doesn't understand it but she's not going to question it either because she has a feeling that Santana misses her smile even more than she does.

The brunette shakes her head but doesn't say anything for a long time and when she does speak, it's about something completely different."Can I sleep at your place tonight?" Santana whispers.

"Mm." The blonde nods her head because she's missed the Latina in her bed for the past couple of nights, even though Santana has a habit of hogging the covers and pushing her out on a regular basis; Brittany always makes up for it in kind, wrapping herself tightly around Santana until they both wake up in the morning, overly heated.

They stay like this for a while, just drinking in the feeling of each other, but then the surprise Brittany's got in stall for Santana reappears in the blonde's mind and, after laying a kiss to the brunette's temple, she tugs at the other girl's hand, signalling that it's time for them to go home.

. . .

"_. . . I get lost in the beauty  
Of everything I see  
The world ain't as half as bad  
As they paint it to be . . ."_

- '_Come Home' by OneRepublic_

When they reach the house, it's just in time to be sprung upon by Brittany's ragdoll cat, just bounding down from the tree outside her open window upstairs. Santana lurches back in surprise (and just in time to escape the feline's claws) and the blonde glares after its retreating back, certain it's just been reading her diary yet again.

Her cat, like most of the population at McKinley High, doesn't seem to like Santana very much which Brittany just doesn't understand because, as she told Mr. Shu, Santana is a very special person and has always been extremely likable. She concedes that it might be the scowls and dagger-eyes that the Latina always sends the cat's way – Santana's excuse being that she's not a cat person – but she thinks her pet could at least try to get on with her best friend, she might even stop hiding her diary from it as a reward then.

Maybe.

"I hate your cat," Santana mutters after a pause, trying to compose her face into something that doesn't resemble a stunned possum.

Brittany nods her head in understanding. "He reads diaries." She frowns. "I think he knows all my secrets now."

The Latina just smirks and links their pinkies. "_I'm _the only one who knows all your secrets."

_'But I don't know all of yours,' _the blonde thinks but doesn't say out loud as Santana tugs her towards the door. She can still sense the tension outlining her friend's actions, kind of like the brunette's trying to be normal and happy but there's something clamping down on her chest, stopping her. Now that Brittany's worked out what was bothering her earlier today she understands what it is and smiles slightly as she remembers what awaits the both of them on the other side of the door.

The moment they step inside there's a big yell of "Surprise!" like in the movies that the blonde loves and the Glee club jump out from their hiding places with big smiles on their faces, some of them forced, though Brittany doesn't notice this one fact. Santana's mouth drops open like a fish, kind of like the first time Brittany asked whether she could kiss her and the blonde's smile grows at the memory.

"Happy birthday," she says and the rest of Glee echoes her words, some with more feeling than others. Kurt and Finn appear the most enthusiastic out of the bunch while Quinn and Mercedes wallow in the background, smiling smiles that don't quite reach their eyes.

For perhaps the first time since Brittany has met her, Santana is speechless. She opens her mouth a couple of times to say something but it always ends up closed again. After a moment she turns to the blonde, eyes wide and confused but there's also a large hint of joy in there, a kind of joy that Brittany hasn't seen for a long time. "I thought you forgot."

The blonde nods her head, eyes apologetic. "I did. But I spent all day trying to remember again."

And a kind of surprised, kind of chocked laugh escapes the Latina's lips and she smiles before pulling Brittany into a hug, holding her tighter than she ever has before."Thankyou," she whispers before pulling back after pause.

Brittany beams and leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. She wants to do more but she knows Santana has strange reservations about kissing in public. She doesn't really get that but she'll try to for her.

Puck's the first to step forward out of the throng, smirk in place as he knocks shoulders with Santana. "Happy birthday, Lopez. For one of the most hated people at school, you got quite a turn out for your party," he jocks, earning a smack from the girl. He winces and rubs his arm. "I'm just sayin'." Santana looks around at the Gleeks, who have now fallen into friendly conversation with each other, like she doesn't quite get it either. Brittany does, though, she gets it easy – the Glee club is a family and a family looks out for each other.

"Where's my present, Puckerman?" the brunette demands haughtily.

"You mean I actually had to get you a present?"

"Lame, Puck, lame," Santana responds and Brittany glares at him because she had specifically demanded presents, lots and lots of presents; she even asked Mr. Shu to get the Head Cheerio a pony at one stage but he turned her down for some reason.

"Well, I for one remembered that it's the proper thing to do to bring a gift to somebody's birthday party," Rachael announces, stepping forward with a present in her hand. She's wearing that diva grin that everyone's so used to by now and Brittany beams at her.

Santana looks taken aback, clearly not expecting that someone who's been on the other end of the majority of the Queen B's slushies would even think about giving her a present. "What?"

The diva just shrugs her shoulders and smiles shyly, a totally new look for her. "Everyone deserves a present on their birthday, even you," she explains, handing the gift over to the stunned Latina. After a pause, Santana seems to decide that's it's not a hidden bomb and starts to rip it open. Brittany watches with bated breath. "I know Brittany said that you didn't like toys but it's the unwritten rule that every person has to have at least one stuffed animal. Society just won't function if this isn't the case."

Confused, Santana pulls out a red Care Bear from beneath the wrapping paper. She doesn't seem to know quite what to make of it but after a pause she looks up and nods at Rachael, a small smile in place. "No . . . no, I like it. Thanks, Manh– Rachael."

The Glee star beams at the response and practically skips away. Brittany decides that this is a good enough time to tell her and leans forward to whisper, "You're not allowed to give her a Slushie-facial for a month now."

Santana snorts. "Figures." Despite this there's still a slight smile on her face and Brittany links their pinkies together once more, pleased with herself.

During the next ten minutes, the rest of the Gleeks line up to offer their own congratulations and presents. Given the late notice of the party, not everyone has a present, but Santana doesn't seem to mind as she conversers with each one in turn, always keeping a tight hold of Brittany's pinkie and the Care Bear Rachael had given her. The blonde's never seen her get along with the Gleeks so well before and for the most part she beams at the unusual interaction going on between them, frown only coming into place when Quinn stays by the cake in the centre of the room, refusing to come forward. If the Latina notices this, though, she doesn't say anything and keeps her grin firmly in place the whole time (a new record). And because of that grin, Brittany knows that everything's going to be OK. For now anyway, she's still a little unsure about what the future will bring. Today she saw a side of Santana she's never seen before, a side that, even momentarily, hated Brittany.

And, at one point, she thinks that might just be a fact more horrifying than she can bear.

"_. . .Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin  
__It might start now. Yeahh  
__Well maybe I'm just dreaming out loud. . ."_

- '_Come Home' by OneRepublic_


	7. Won't You Be My Solid Ground?

_**A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the final chapter of this story (though, keep your eyes out for a sequel because I'm thinking of doing one, though no promises on when I'll get around to it). I'm sorry for the late update as well, in my defence I've had two assignments and three orals for school this week, plus I've been sick so that didn't help much. Also, I'm a little uncertain how to feel about this chapter. On the one hand, I like it, but on the other there are some bits that I'm afraid might be just a bit too fluffy and corny. Though, after the earlier chapters the story probably deserves a little fluff. Anyway, I hope you like it and thanks a heap for all the reviews, they really do make my day. **_

_**.. .**_

"_I talk to you as to a friend_

_I hope that's what you've_

_come to be_

_It feels as though we've_

_made amends_

_Like we found a way_

_Eventually . . ."_

…

Santana watches Quinn from a distance. Every now and then the blonde will glance up, lock gazes with her, before snapping her head away again once more, possibly to continue on with a conversation with Mercedes.

Brittany abandoned her in favour of trading make-up tips with Kurt not too long ago and while the brunette loves the blonde's company she's relieved to see her gone. She doesn't quite know what to say anymore. She knows that if it wasn't for Brittany none of this would be possible, which just fills her with a major sense of guilt over how she had acted earlier. And Santana Lopez doesn't do guilt. Ever.

Nonetheless, her thoughts and feelings rebel against her and suddenly there's a lot of guilt to take in. Brittany's at the top of the list for obvious reasons, shortly followed by Manhands who she really just doesn't understand anymore and then there's Quinn. Rachael's easy enough to deal with for, even though Santana earned her first Care Bear from the other brunette (something that the rest of McKinley High will _never _find out about), it's not enough to erase the years of despising contained within the Latina's body. She doesn't like Berry, simply because she's an easy target not to like, and that's not about to change anytime soon. Still, surprisingly, she's not the least bit reluctant to call off Slushie Facials for a month when it comes to the annoying little Diva; which really just goes to show how much she's grown as person during the course of a few hours.

Quinn's a different story altogether. She likes and loathes the pregnant teen all at once and that's the way it's always been. In the past, it was because she was so incredibly jealous of the blonde; Quinn Fabray had it all – popularity, doting parents, a nice boyfriend – so, yeah, Santana was mighty jealous of her. And then to just throw all of that away because she got fucking pregnant – if it had been the Latina in her position she would have just gotten an abortion 'cause, hey, better for the baby and certainly better for her – it didn't just make the brunette jealous, it made her practically hate her.

Mixed in with the hate, though, is also a little bit of like. After all, besides Brittany, Q is basically her only other friend. She's also one of her biggest enemies, which isn't all that unusual for, in fighting your way to the top of the social pyramid and not to mention trying to stay there, your best friends can often be your greatest enemies. The only reason B never fell into that category is because she's never even known the meaning of 'social pyramid' let alone wanted to be at the top of one.

Santana's almost certain that the feelings she has in regards to Quinn are completely mutual.

The Head Cheerio rolls her eyes, as the blonde makes another conspicuous try at pretending not to stare at her, and turns away, heading out towards B's balcony. She passes the cake – "Coffee!" her best friend had informed her with just a little too much enthusiasm – on the way and swipes a piece on a plate for herself (strict Cheerio diet be damned!). Taking a seat on the edge of balcony, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge, Santana starts to work on her cake, waiting patiently for Quinn to join her, as she's certain she will.

It doesn't take long; no more than a minute after she has left the house, does the petite blonde step out and take a seat beside her. She's wearing another one of her babydoll dresses – blue this time – and the Latina wrinkles her nose in disgust. If there's one thing Santana hates more than Quinn being pregnant, it's Quinn trying to pretend she's a complete innocent in the whole thing. Then again, that could just be her usual angst at her mum, who also pretends she's innocent, rearing its ugly head up again.

Santana doesn't really care either way.

"I'm giving Beth up for adoption," the blonde whispers and Santana swings her head around to look at her in surprise. Quinn doesn't return the look, just stares off at the fence that circle's Brittany's yard. "I've been thinking about it for months now and I think it's the right thing to do." She glances sharply at the brunette beside her. "Not because Puck and I are so young or because I think we wouldn't be good parents – I happen to believe that we would be great parents and I know of people who have been in the same situation and their kids' lives are absolutely wonderful . . . but because you were right about one thing."

She pauses and Santana inclines her head curiously. "Yeah?" This might just be the first time anyone's said she's been right at anything; discounting Brittany, of course.

Quinn jerks her head slightly, eyes watering but not quite crying yet. Thank god; the last thing she wants on her hands is a sobbing and hormonal blonde girl with a princess-complex. "We don't have nearly enough money to give Beth the life she deserves, not the way somebody else can. You were right when you said I was mooching off Puck's mum and to be honest I don't think I've ever had an actual job before and Puck's pool cleaning business certainly doesn't pay well enough." She pauses for a moment, taking a breath. "I love my daughter and I want to make sure that she has the best life possible.

But I can't give her that."

The brunette looks away for a moment, not sure what to say. Should she apologise? She doesn't really feel sorry. She meant what she said, after all, but, then, it was more her personal issues bursting forth from her mouth than anything actually to do with Quinn. Santana admits, reluctantly, that the blonde probably didn't deserve the onslaught but, then again, that's nothing new for one of her victims. "I was probably a bit harsh." It's the closest she'll ever come to an apology.

The pregnant teen nods her head. "You were. But I get it, kind of." She takes in the Latina's surprised look and smiles sadly. "I _have_ been to your house, S, I've met your Mum; she looks like a thirty year old hooker." Santana cringes slightly, hating that someone has so easily seen one of her weak points. "And your room isn't much bigger than a closet, not to mention the fact that your stepfather is totally creep worthy. So I get why, when you look at me, you only see the worse that can happen." She sighs and looks down. "But what you said really hurt, especially when I was trying to help you, and I'm not going to forgive you for it. I can't, not yet."

Santana shrugs her shoulders, unbothered. She knows Quinn will forgive her eventually, she's just that kind of girl, and even if she doesn't the Latina's still got B; she'll always have B. Brittany's enough.

The blonde sighs and reaches into her handbag, pulling out a small wrapped present and handing it to the Head Cheerio, who opens it cautiously, confusion written plain across her face. "It's a little bit of my old make-up. I know you don't have much at home because you can hardly afford to buy it and I thought it might come in handy for covering up things. I think you need it a lot more than I do."

Santana stiffens and glances up sharply at her. There's a knowing look in the pregnant teen's eyes and the brunette is sure she's talked to Puck; the bastard probably spilled the beans about everything. The idea that perfect little Quinn Fabray might know the seedy little details of her unhappy life makes her sick and causes her fingers to clench slightly.

"I'm here for you, if you want to talk," Quinn continues, either oblivious to Santana's change of mood or just choosing to ignore it. The blonde's definitely annoying enough for it to be the latter. "I'm not going to say I'm your friend, though, because, to be perfectly honest, I don't really want to be and I don't think you do either. But I'm here." A small smile tugs at her lips as she places a gentle pat on Santana's hand, causing the brunette to flinch. "Whatever that means," she adds before rising to her feet. Hands resting on her stomach, she waltzes into the house without so much as a backward glance at Santana.

The Latina stares after her, unsure whether to be pissed off, confused or grateful. It's not that she doesn't appreciate the blonde's kindness but rather that she despises the idea of ever having to need it, especially from _her_. This is Santana's shit, no-one else's, and it's going to stay that way. Just the idea of other people knowing how damn powerless she really is flips her stomach sickeningly.

She's not like Quinn who, as long as she knows they'll be there and support her through it (obviously meaning that they won't ridicule her and kick her when she's down), doesn't mind people knowing that she's pregnant. To Santana, it doesn't matter how nice and supportive everyone would be if they knew, she just doesn't want them to know. She works hard for her reputation and it's the only thing in the world that allows her to pretend that she's wholly and completely the masks she puts on for people to see. If her flawless (and by that she means bitchy and invincible) reputation goes down the drain then so does the fantasy of her not being an unwanted parasite in her own home, living with a crackwhore mother and a drugdealer step-dad who's raped her more times than she can count.

And Santana needs that fantasy.

It's about ten minutes later that Puck finds her, huddled on the balcony with her chin resting on her knees and tears threatening to fall, though she'll never let them. She hates the fact that he gets to see her looking so vulnerable but she also can't bring herself to unfold her limbs and put the cool, unruffled mask back on.

_Fuck._

"Hey." Like Quinn, he takes a seat beside her and hands over a present. Unlike Quinn, there's no hurt or hidden anger behind his eyes and the smirk he wears on his face is comforting. Santana reaches out and takes the present without much thought, tearing it open to reveal a can of pepper spray. "Aren't these, like, illegal?" she asks, not because she really cares about the answer, but because she doesn't want to risk letting slip the question that's really racing through her mind: _'Why are you giving this to me?'_

Puck shrugs his shoulders. "I don' know. I got it off that Sandy guy a couple of weeks ago and figured now was the right time to give it to you." The words, 'You would have bit my head off if I tried any earlier,' are left unsaid but they both hear them.

The brunette turns the can over in her hands, eyes glazed and weary. "I'm fine," but she doesn't know who it is she's really trying to convince with those words.

Puck just shrugs his shoulders again and smiles slightly. "I know you are. You're made of tough shit, Lopez; way tougher than most of the guys on the football team, though don't tell them that. This is just if things ever get bad."

_They're already bad_, but she doesn't voice that remark. She knows what Puck means; he means that if Garry ever takes things too far and looks like he's about to snuff out what's left of her life at least she has one way of protecting herself.

Santana nods, not looking up from the can of pepper spray. "Thanks."

He reaches out a hand and pulls at her ponytail, freeing it from the elastic band's tight enclosure. She watches him in confusion as her hair falls down around her face but Puck just allows a kind of half smile/half smirk to appear on his face and shrugs. "Now you look like Santana again."

She knows he's talking about the girl she used to be, the one before Cheerios and Slushie Facials, the one who didn't know what it meant to be a victim.

She wishes she could do more than just look like that girl.

. . .

"_. . . I look at you and see a friend_

_I hope that's what you wanna be_

_Are we back now where_

_it all began?_

_Have you finally forgiven me?"_

_. . ._

Brittany frowns down at the cardboard box in her hands as it gives a little shuffle and lets out a stifled noise. A few of the Gleeks in her house turn to stare with raised eyebrows and Kurt takes a wary step back. She's oblivious to the looks as the box quietens down and a smile appears on her face once more.

"She's all ready for you, Britt," Puck tells her as he steps in from the balcony.

She looks up in interest. "You had your 'talk'?" She doesn't really know what the 'talk' was supposed to be about but he said before that it was important so she let him steal some of her Santana Time in order to do it. She trusts Puck, in the kind of way that she trusts everyone who goes to McKinley High, and she knows that, even though Santana denies it very often and with many matching scowls, that he cares about her best friend, kind of like the way her little sister Abbey cares about her pet fish – she's not too fussed about it but when it's in trouble she'll put on the crocodile tears.

He nods his head and Brittany's smile grows. "Do you think she'll like it?" she asks, suddenly feeling unsure. She's never given a present to Santana that she didn't like before but, then, Santana's never been angry at her before either so maybe the former's changed as well.

Puck rolls his eyes. "You gave her a barbie doll last year and she kissed you on the cheek. I didn't even get laid for the movie tickets I got her." He frowns and takes a seat in an empty armchair, grumbling something like, _"Lopez doesn't even _like_ barbie dolls . . ."_

The blonde remembers the time Puck is talking about, she also remembers it as the first time she kissed Santana (and not on the cheek).

Mr. Shu comes up behind her and pats her shoulder. He's wearing that reassuring smile again and once more she's tempted to ask him whether his name has ever been Mary but resists; this is Santana time, Finding Out William Shuster's Real Identity time can come later. "She'll love it."

Brittany beams and jumps up to kiss him on the cheek before skipping out the door and leaving a very shocked Shu behind, not to mention a guffawing Puck and a smirking Quinn. She would've kissed him on the lips – boys seem to like that – but she got told off for doing it last time.

Santana's sitting cross-legged on the edge of the patio, a plate with crumbs on it by her side, along with a can of some sort of spray called pepper (she wonders whether it's a relative of that girl, Susie Pepper) and some make-up. She's staring up at the night sky, face contemplative as she plays with a few threads of her Cheerio skirt. It's not an unfamiliar look. Sometimes, when Brittany and Santana are together, just hanging out, she'll feel the brunette drift away from her, far away to some place she can't follow. Whenever the blonde asks her where she goes when she's gone, though, the other girl will just look at her in confusion, so maybe it's like a dream and she just can't remember.

It's different sometimes when they kiss, though. Brittany will place her lips delicately to the corner of Santana's mouth at first and Santana will freeze, almost like she's been burnt. Whenever the blonde asks why she clamps up, the brunette's eyes will go hazy and she'll get lost in thought. Sometimes it'll take forever to get her back and when she does there'll be no explanation and they'll just continue kiss, Santana struggling to make it rougher. It's almost like she's afraid of the gentleness of Brittany's touch but that doesn't make sense at all.

One day, Brittany will find a way to follow her to wherever she goes, just to make sure that Santana no longer looks so sad when she comes back. And maybe even, someday, she'll be able to take her best friend along to some of the places _she_ goes, because there's nothing sad about those places, only smiles and rainbows.

Santana doesn't really seem to know much about those things and Brittany's determined to show her.

The box gives another shake and Santana's head snaps around to look at her in confusion. "Hey, what's that?"

Brittany smiles and takes a seat beside her, letting her legs dangle over the edge in order to swing back and forth like a child's. "Your birthday present."

This time, the brunette smiles too and she holds out her hands for the box expectantly, never one for patience. The blonde hands it over without pause and the box lets out a strangled noise which has Santana raising her eyebrows in question. "This isn't like that time when you stole the next door neighbour's cat and gift-wrapped it for me for Christmas, is it?"

Brittany pouts, remembering the little Burmese kitten that lived with the grumpy old man who used to be next door. She knows her Daddy said it was wrong to take someone else's pet but she really thinks that Daisy would have been happier living with Santana who didn't shout nearly as much (well, almost nearly as much). "No."

Still looking slightly suspicious, Santana opens the lid and lets out a surprised squeak as a little duckling pokes its yellow head out. "You got me a duck."

"Mmhm."

"You got me a duck!"

Brittany nods her head once more, happy that this isn't like last time when Daisy jumped out of the box and scratched her best friend's face up and then everybody chased her around the living room for three hours straight, all the while trying to make sure that she didn't eat Abbey's pet mouse. "I did."

"Why?"

The blonde pouts once more, now confused as to whether she's done the right thing. "You don't like him."

Santana rushes to reassure her. "No! I–I love him, really. What's his name?"

Pout gone, Brittany beams. "It was supposed to be Ballad because of that time when we did that ballad in Glee. You picked my name out of the hat when nobody else got the partners they wanted and it was kind of like in the movies or the fairytales, like destiny." The blonde blushes, not sure if she's saying this right. She knows what she means but sometimes things get confused on the way to her mouth and come out sounding kind of strange. "Kind of like we were supposed to be together, you know."

Silence greets her and Brittany looks up hesitantly, only to be met by Santana's smiling face. It's not a false smile but it's not a happy one either. The smile's kind of soft and warm and it makes the blonde smile as well.

"Yeah?" the Latina asks faintly and her brown eyes are sparkling like the stars that Brittany likes to watch at night.

"Yeah." The smile falls suddenly as she remembers something. "Only, Puck started calling him Satan jr. and now he'll only come to that."

Santana's eyebrow raises. "You made a duck _come_?"

"Yeah, but not in that other way." She thinks about it for a moment, wondering how best to elaborate. Thinking of that other way, though, is kind of making her want to kiss Santana which, at the very least, is distracting. "Kind of like a dog."

Santana laughs and Ballad/Satan Jr. lets out little quack. "I see."

Brittany nods her head and wets her lips nervously. "I'm sorry I forgot your birthday. I had it written down on my calendar but I lost it." She leans forward so as to whisper secretly in her friend's ear. "I think the gremlins took it. They like to do that, you know."

Santana giggles and shakes her head. "It's OK." Her face goes serious and she touches Brittany's hand which is splayed out between them on the wood. "I wasn't actually angry at you, B. I was just hurt, and it wasn't really even by you. So I'm sorry for the way I acted."

Santana's never apologised before and Brittany frowns, getting the meaningfulness of the situation. She wants to ask who she was really hurt by but stops, mouth midway open. Maybe Santana will tell her the truth but maybe she won't and the blonde really doesn't want to risk being lied to again. "Don't go home," she murmurs instead, causing the brunette to frown in confusion.

"I'm not. I'm staying the night, remember?"

Brittany shakes her head. "No, I mean, don't go home ever."

"What do you mean?"

She gnaws on her bottom lip and for the first time in her life she's terrified. What she's terrified of, she doesn't really know but the feeling's definitely there, itching beneath the surface. "Sometimes, when you go home, you come back hurt. And I don't like it when you get hurt." And she realizes suddenly that it's Santana she's scared for, the idea that anything could hurt her has her terrified. Brittany doesn't know why Santana gets hurt or how but she does know that it happens in that house. Even though her friend tells her all the time that the bruises and cuts under her Cheerio's uniform are just from practice she knows they're not. Santana almost never falls at practice, Brittany makes sure of it.

She gazes into the brunette's wide, brown eyes, taking in her flabbergasted appearance and she wonders whether she's said something wrong.

"Brittany . . ." Santana trails off and the blonde waits. The duckling does circles in his box, quacking discontentedly all the while but neither of them notice. The brunette clears her throat and shakes her head. "I can't stay here all the time. Your parents barely have room for your brother and sister and . . ." Santana's throat catches and she pauses, voice turning low. "I wouldn't be allowed to."

Brittany frowns, not understanding it. Surely her best friend's parents would want the Latina to be safe, wouldn't they? "Your Mum wouldn't like it?"

Santana smiles bitterly and the blonde immediately misses the old, soft one. "My step-dad wouldn't like it." She moves on quickly, hand tightening around Brittany's. "But I would love to, I really would. I want to stay here with you Britt, I really do, I don't want to go home. But I have to. You understand that, right?"

No, Brittany doesn't understand it but she hates the distressed look in her best friend's eyes so she nods her head anyway. Santana's head drops and a sigh of relief escapes . . . and Brittany doesn't get it. She doesn't get any of it. She doesn't get why Santana can't stay with her, she doesn't get why she has nightmares all the time and Brittany certainly doesn't understand how her best friend can get hurt so many times and yet the blonde's powerless to stop it, any of it.

She doesn't understand.

"_. . . It was you who picked_

_the pieces up_

_When I was a broken soul_

_And then glued me_

_back together_

_Returned to me what_

_others stole. . ."_

"Britt?" Santana asks after a pause, not quite looking at her. Actually, her gaze is almost completely focused on Ballad/Satan Jr., who seems to be practically preening at the obvious attention. For a moment, the blonde wonders whether they should have named him Rachael but then decides that the other duckies might tease him for having a girl's name.

"Yep?" Brittany chirps, almost too caught up in images of the future she has planned out for Not-Rachael – most of them involving little boarding school outfits and hours of training the duckling to pick-pocket (Puck being the intended victim) – to notice the obvious awkwardness in the other girl's posture. She does notice though and all thoughts of the duckling are pushed back out of her mind . . .for now, anyway.

"When I said I didn't need you . . ." Santana takes a breath and looks up, finally locking gazes with her. "I want you to know that I lied, that I do need you. Truth is, it sounds corny, but my life would be a hell of a lot more shittier if you weren't in it." She chuckles slightly, blinks and looks down, but the blonde really doesn't see the humour in the situation. Judging by the stiff set of the brunette's shoulders, she doesn't really see it either and the chuckle's quick and short, a kind of spark set off by a match that hardly lasts much more than a millisecond. It makes Brittany doubt whether it was ever there in the first place. "A lot shittier."

"I need you too," Brittany responds with a beam. Santana raises a doubtful eyebrow. "No really. I mean, you know my locker combination and you remind that it's not OK to fill up my drink bottle with water from one of the classroom fish tanks at school; even though I don't think the fish would really mind too much. And there was that time you stopped me from switching the coach's conditioner for pink hair dye, which I still think would look really good on her . . . kind of like a pink fairy. Which would really help her be not so, you know, scary. But you were right because I think she might have been even scarier if she ever found out." The blonde takes a breath, remembering only at the last minute that she does in fact need air to breathe. She kind of forgot since Rachael Berry never seems to. "And I love you. So I need you," she concludes simply. "Plus, Mr. Shu says that if I put sombreros on another one of my tests again I'm going to fail Spanish, so I kind of need you to help teach me again. I'm pretty sure I know how to say 'hello', though, now. So you don't have to worry about that anymore." Once again she takes a breath but this time she waits silently for the Latina to reply.

To be honest, Santana seems kind of dumbstruck, kind of like the first time when she called Mr. Shu Mary (obviously because it tipped him off to the fact that she was onto him). After a long pause, she clears her throat, nods her head and looks down at their hands. "Cool." It's all she says but Brittany's OK with that, mostly because she's fluent in Santana Speech. Right now, she decides that 'Cool' is probably code for 'thank you' and 'I love you' and tells herself that it's not like the time when she confused Santana's words of 'God, Quinn looks like such a barbie today' as a hint that Santana really desperately wanted a barbie doll for her birthday (It was an honest mistake, anyone could have made it).

They sit in silence for a while, hands threaded together between them as they watch the stars. Sometimes they look down at Santana's new pet, smiling at the way it waddles around on the deck once its owner sets it free. Despite the earlier conversation, the atmosphere between them is peaceful. They both know that there's a box of really bad secrets that still lays between them, yet unopened, and they're both kind of scared of what'll happen when it does but that's OK for now.

Because, as Brittany leans forward and kisses Santana, breathing her in and pulling her closer, she remembers what else the brunette and coffee have in common. Sometimes, they're not bitter at all, not really. Sometimes they fill Brittany up with a warmth so powerful that it's unheard of. Like coffee, Santana makes her warm and happy. So it's OK that sometimes the Latina tastes a little bitter and maybe cold because she'll always make Brittany warm again in the end.

That's why she likes coffee so much.

But despite this revelation, there still something bothering her . . .

"Santana?"

"Mm?"

"What's a klepto?"

"_. . . I don't wanna hurt you_

_I don't wanna make you sway_

_Like I know I've done before_

_I will not do it anymore_

_I've always been a dreamer_

_I've had my head among_

_the clouds_

_Now that I'm coming down_

_Won't you be my solid ground?"_

- '_Sway' by the Perishers_

_**THE END (for now).**_


End file.
